Entry 3: The #IrmaDiaries with Mr. Black:
In an attempt to maintain my sanity, I present to you….the #IrmaDiaries
The date is still September 11th 2017 and it’s 11:50am. I’ve been playing dead in this room to avoid any social interactions since we lost power (15 hours ago).
The only reason I got out of bed was to urinate.
I need to check myself for bedsores.
I have no idea how jews and runaway slaves hid in silence for weeks and even months with slave catchers and Nazi’s on their heels. I’m in a comfy ass bed with memory foam pillows and I’m losing my shit.
Ive been falling in and out of sleep. Well I’ve actually been doing such an amazing job of pretending to be asleep when people check on me that I’m starting to believe it myself—hence the dozing off.
I can hear everyone talking more loudly now than before as the daylight has energized their loud ass vocal cords to full velocity. It’s a cycle of near-silence to full on showtime at the Apollo.
Oh, and I don’t have any Xanax.
Time to channel my inner Meryl Streep and act my way through the next 24 hours.
I just finished helping my brother remove my parent’s enormous trampoline off their fence/out of a tree. The same trampoline I offered to take apart before the hurricane arrived but was met with opposition. I’ve taken the boards off the windows, tacked fence panels back up, and even tried to go for a joy ride before realizing all of the traffic lights are down. The lack of a.c. combined with this Jeffersons episode I’m stuck in has me feeling reckless.
I’m ’bout to fill this shaker cup with more $9 wine and eat a canned meat product. Yeah I’m feeling that destructive. Did I bring fancy non-perishables from Miami? Yep. Am I going to eat them? Nope.